


Besin's Travel

by BorosPaladin



Series: Nova Alabastra [7]
Category: Kingdoms of Amalur
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorosPaladin/pseuds/BorosPaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because you didn't receive an invitation doesn't mean you haven't been welcomed. And sometimes subtle threats make the best hospitality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Besin's Travel

“You know, I’ve lived in this place a lot longer than you have, mortal. I know its sounds and its feeling. You may as well come out of the shadows.”

The young Dokkalfar stepped forward, entering the main light of the throne room. He was dressed in a leather outfit and carried a cheap pair of daggers.

“Why are you here, mortal? To see the ruins of Amethyn? I’ll kill you first. To take something from me? Your armies have already taken all of Winter’s treasures. To kill me? It would have been easier for you to jump off a cliff. To mock the last High King of Winter? You’re not the first and won’t be the last. And I’ve probably heard better insults.”

“I’m – I, uh – “

“Well, if you can’t answer that, at least tell me your name.”

“Dennrit. I’m Dennrit Besin.”

“Well, Dennrit, you’ve come a long way for something. Either get to it or speak up.”

“My name is Dennrit. I’m a Traveler. I came hoping to get your crown.”

“My crown? Hm. I might just give it to you. Maybe you’d do better ruling Winter than I. Do you think so, Dennrit?”

“Probably not. I don’t like the thought of ruling anything. Or being ruled, for that matter.”

“Well, since you don’t want to rule, then you must be here for the crown itself and not my seat. Unfortunate. You could have had that, too. But again I have to ask: Why my crown?”

“Crilgarin suggested I try to take it.”

“Crilgarin? I haven’t heard of her in the Courts for many seasons now. Where did you meet her?”

“She lives at Star Camp, in Dalentarth. She’s a Traveler.”

“Oh, so she joined you mortals in agreeing to be without rulers? Heh. Good thing Grim was able to take down the Hierophant, wasn’t it?”

“No one wants to talk about that whole episode.”

“Of course. No one wants to talk about the darker side of history. That’s why mortals flock to the Summer Court, and why you don’t celebrate Winter.”

“That’s deeper thought than I care about. So are you going to give me the crown or not?”

“In a hurry, Dennrit?”

“Well, you seem fine with me being here, but I don’t know whether anyone else is, so I’d rather be making my getaway and not finding out.”

“We knew you were here the moment you entered Alabastra, but we had no reason to, ah, speak to you until you showed yourself willingly. And the others most certainly don’t like you here, so stay a bit. Your life may be short, mortal, but it’s not going to end in this room.”

Dennrit sat down. “Then, yes, I suppose it’s best for me to stay a while.”

Cydan shook his head. “I can’t understand you mortals. Such short lives, but willing to sacrifice everything for a few more minutes.”

Dennrit shrugged. “I guess it goes with avoiding unpleasantness. Still, not something I bother to think much about.”

“What do you bother to think about, then?”

“Usually how to be a better thief, what heist I’m going to pull off next.”

“You just like the thrill of taking something that isn’t yours?”

“I admit that’s nice, but no.”

“Why steal, then?”

“Because it’s something I can do to make myself seem magnificent. My father was a cultist, disgraced the whole family. I’d have an easier time getting us all back on our feet if I were female, women get all the respect in Rathir. I could just join the army or go sailing on a pirate vessel or something, make my name that way. Instead, I have to do something really, incredibly amazing just to get the slightest shred of respect.”

“Something like stealing the crown off the High King of Winter’s head?”

“That’s what Crilgarin suggested, yes.”

“And, what, people are going to just believe you that this is the real crown of the Court of Winter?”

“Why shouldn’t they? It’s not like other people claim to have it.”

“And you think they’re going to respect you outside the Travelers as a great _thief_?”

“Well….”

“And these are things you just don’t like thinking about, Dennrit?”

He scrambled to his feet. “No, I just – ”

“And generous as I have been, guaranteeing your safe passage here and inviting you in, don’t you think you owe me the truth?”

“What – what truth do you mean?”

“The truth where you’ve heard rumors that this crown lets the wearer hear Tirnoch through its prismere. The truth where you care less about restoring your name than in succeeding where your father failed by summoning something even darker, something even mightier. Sure, he might have wanted to use Niskaru alongside Rathir’s army, but just imagine how powerful it would be to have a _god_ at your command.”

Dennrit’s eyes widened. “How did you know? What my father did was kept secret!”

“I know many secrets, elf. Now run, and never speak of this again, or you’ll feel my blades gutting you before you see them.”

Dennrit broke and burst out the door. Ragna pounced from the doorframe; he never had a chance to scream. She then strolled into the throne room, savoring the taste as she licked the blood off her blades and bowed to Cydan.

Cydan turned to the shadows beside his throne. “Satisfied, Lady Shir?”


End file.
